Wednesday, June 20, 2012

Trash

I saw them as I walked through the bathroom my daughters share.  They were on the floor.  They were supposed to be in the trash can.  Instead, they were surrounding it.  The sight of them made me want to scream. (Actually, I did scream.)  Pad wrappers....  I didn't understand.  How could they use the bathroom and not see them?  How could they just walk by them and not pick them up?  Was their vision impaired?  Were they saving them for some purpose for which I was unaware?  I'd like to say that I remained calm and politely asked my daughters for an explanation.  But that is not what happened.  Instead, I said something sarcastic about missing the trash can and then began lecturing them about cleaning up after themselves.  By the time I was done, all three were visibly upset.  (So was my daughter's friend who was spending the night.  Thankfully, she spends enough time at our house to know that I'm not always this crazy!)  In trying to explain why the wrappers were left, my daughter told me that 'you get used to your own trash'. 

You get used to your own trash.

I've noticed that trend in my own life before.  Usually, it's a particular sin or bad habit that I become immune to.  I may notice it at first, but I tell myself that I can handle it; it won't be a problem.  Time passes and I get used to seeing it.  I may not like it, but it becomes a part of the landscape of my life.  Then comes the time when I don't even notice it anymore.  It has been fully integrated.  I should have dealt with it swiftly, but I put it off.  I told myself it's not that bad; I'll deal with it later.  Later doesn't come.  And the trash pile continues to grow until someone or something brings it back to my attention. 

Thankfully, I have a family and some good friends who are willing to point out some of my trash piles.  They do it because I have asked them to.  And I know when they point something out, they do so in love and with prayer.  I don't always like having my trash exposed.  It's hard.  It's uncomfortable.  It makes me sad and a little embarrassed.  But I'm not alone.  Because those same people stand by me and walk with me as I begin the process of cleaning up.  And in the end, I am much happier.

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